


break their bounds

by scorchstorm



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gay Mike Wheeler, Gay Will Byers, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M, once again el is an angel, this is basically just... snippets of mike and will's relationship over time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchstorm/pseuds/scorchstorm
Summary: Mike’s mouth moves but no words come out, and he seems to give up. He lets himself cave, eyes fluttering shut, leaning down to rest his forehead against Will’s.“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” he admits. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m going to wake up and you’re not going to be there anymore.”orseveral snapshots of mike and will’s relationship, through the good and the bad.





	break their bounds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yousaidyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yousaidyes/gifts).

> Soooo this is basically just a collection of moments between our boys, who are already dating. There's hella angst and they're cute and they've got a lot of insecurities between them which are hashed out in this fic, and each moment takes turns from their perspectives. I wanted to try my hand at established and I think I've done okay?? Who knows. Pls tell me.
> 
> There's no specific time frame?? It starts where they've only been dating for a month or so, and by the end of it I envision them to have been together for a year. The time frame doesn't really matter, I suppose, but I'm just throwing it out there.
> 
> Shoutout to _yousaidyes_ who is an absolute angel that puts up with my dumbass on the regular and supports my writing. Hope you like this!
> 
> Pinched the title from Stevie Nicks' _Talk To Me_. Enjoy!

For a long time, Will considered his safe place to be Castle Byers.

He’d sought out solace there more times than he could count growing up. It was a combination of things, such as Jonathan having helped him build it, and so it’d help Will when he’d be alone but wouldn’t want to be _lonely_, knowing that his brother was a part of it all. He’d considered the walls to be an impenetrable fortress, from Lonnie and monsters alike (although often, they were the same thing). It just let him escape from the real world.

He’d long since trashed Castle Byers but the foundations still remained out in the woods. He still visits from time to time, but nowhere near as often. It doesn’t have the same pull as before.

It’s not his safe place anymore.

Whenever his chest gets tight and he can’t breathe, or he feels impossibly cold no matter how much he bundles up, there’s only one thing on his mind.

Mike.

His haven is no longer a fort in the woods. It’s a beating heart and bitten lips stretched into a breathless smile and black curls framing a pale face. It’s gangly limbs and dorky dance moves and loud singing. It’s scrawled handwriting and animate storytelling and warmth that could rival the sun.

It’s his best friend. It’s the key to his lock. It’s the light that fights the darkness away, guiding Will through the toughest of times even when he feels like there’s no hope to be had.

It’s everything _Mike_.

That’s all that spins in his head, runs through his veins. It’s a mantra thrumming throughout his body as he pedals through the downpour, tears mixing with the rain. His hair is matted to his forehead and he can’t see very well through the haze, but he knows the way to Mike’s house like the back of his hand.

He could do it with his eyes closed. It’s something he knows better than himself sometimes. When all else fails, it’s the only thing that stays. The one thing that refuses to bleed away. That he _needs_ Mike like the air he breathes, because there’s nobody else that can understand quite like him.

There’s nobody else Will wants.

His heart leaps into his throat once the house comes into view, and he’s skidding to a halt with numb legs. There’s someone pacing out front, halfway up, and they pause once Will practically falls over his bike, clattering to the ground. Even through the dark, Will knows who it is. He always does.

Will can’t tear his eyes away from Mike, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. There’s gravel beneath his fingernails as he scrambles to his feet, thunder cackling overhead, and he’s tripping over himself to fall into Mike’s arms, who meets him in the middle.

He’s still struggling to breathe. He can’t decide on what he wants to say first.

And luckily for him, Mike knows that, too.

“Jonathan called, he told me what happened,” he scrambles to say. Will feels hands run up his sides, to cup his face, skin slick with water. His head is turned gently, thumbs pressed against his jaw, and he’s looking up at Mike through his lashes.

Mike is drenched to the bone. He’s not even wearing a coat, and Will knows he’s going to scold him over it, even though Will isn’t wearing one himself. He didn’t have time to stop and grab one. He didn’t want to. He flew out of his house like a bat out of hell and didn’t look back.

He needs Mike.

“What are you doing?” Will manages to choke out, loud enough to be heard over the tremble of thunder. “You’ll catch your death.”

Mike pins him with a flat look, droplets spilling over his lips, and Will can’t tear his eyes away.

“I wanted to rush straight over there but Jonathan said you were already heading over. And I didn’t – I couldn’t just sit in my house and wait for you. I needed to see you.”

The ice in Will’s chest begins to thaw, the sunlight creeping in. Every time, without fail, Mike can do that. He can make everything better. He can make Will feel important.

He makes Will feel loved when it feels like there’s no one else there.

Will’s face crumbles in the next moment, looking down. Mike’s hands scramble at the sides of his face, trying to lift his head, but Will fights it. Even when Mike leans down into his space, and their foreheads touch and their noses bump. There’s a frantic tint to his movements that normally would’ve had Will melt like putty in his hands.

This is different.

“Look at me,” he hears, but Will can’t. “Okay, just – okay, let’s go inside, alright?”

The lump in his throat makes it difficult to swallow. Will’s chest is still heaving because he can’t breathe. And he’s panicked then, glancing up to look at Mike, mouth falling open in a silent plea for help.

Mike kisses him.

It’s gentle, and loving. It gives Will a rush of electricity, right down to his toes, the way it always does. Will doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. The weight of Mike’s hands holding his face, like Will is the most priceless possession Mike has. The brush of his mouth against his, the way he breathes. It’s been a few months since they got together, but every time feels like the first time.

Will never thought he’d understand. Girls at school would giggle and fawn over the way boys make them feel. The same way that they do in the movies, when they talk breathlessly about how _wonderful_ and _magical_ it all is.

Will never thought he’d understand, but he does.

He _really _does.

“Come on,” he hears, breath ghosting over his mouth as Mike pulls away. There’s a hand wrapped firmly into his, and a gentle tug pulls at his arm. Mike’s urging him towards the house, to the light that spills from the open door, and Will follows him blindly.

He trusts him. He always has. It’s why he doesn’t fight it.

They stumble to the basement, drenched to the bone. Will’s teeth chatter loudly, biting for air, lips alight with a spark despite the cold that’d been freezing them over. Mike is shivering as goes to retrieve a load of towels, and there’s a lapse of guilt that coils in Will’s stomach because it’s his fault.

This time, the chill that grips him like a vice has nothing to do with the rain.

“Here,” Mike says, clattering back down the stairs.

Mike guides him towards the sofa, and Will is urged to sit down. He then wraps three towels over Will’s shoulders, gently guiding Will’s hands to grasp faintly at the material. He does as he’s instructed, and Will hugs himself, wrapped up in a makeshift cocoon of sorts. Mike’s got another towel, and he’s fiercely rubbing at Will’s hair to dry it off, and it startles a laugh out of Will, strangled but still light.

“You’re still soaked,” he whispers.

“Don’t worry about me,” Mike says, as if Will has ever been capable of doing so.

“Seriously,” he shrugs Mike’s hands off of him, but smiles gratefully, a small tug at the corners of his mouth. “Dry yourself off, please.”

Mike doesn’t break his gaze once, even as he pulls a loose towel over his shoulders, letting the one he’d been holding drop to the floor. He mimics Will, wrapping his arms around himself, but he budges up along the sofa so that their sides are flush together, so that Will can let himself succumb to the weight that’s dragging him down, head falling onto Mike’s shoulder.

There’s a gentle press of lips to the top of his head, and then Mike’s resting his cheek against the same space. It’s so intimate, and soft, and so _warm_ that it makes Will crumble. A small sob bursts from his mouth, tears streaking down his already damp face.

“Hey,” he hears. A hand coils around his back, thumb grazing over the towels in a stroking motion, and Mike twists his face to speak into Will’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

Yeah, he knows. And he’s grateful, he is. It’s just that when times get tough, sometimes it all feels backwards. Will finds that it’s harder to accept that he and Mike are finally wrapped up in one another, the way Will had always dreamed of growing up.

Will finds it hard to accept that Mike loves him back. It feels too good to be true. It feels like Mike is going to take one look at Will, at the mess he truly is, and leave.

“Will,” Mike murmurs, kissing his head again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Will cries harder.

Mike holds him tighter.

He wishes that the shadows would go away. He knows it’s not his fault, that he’s got reasons for doubting those he loves even if it’s all bullshit. Will just wishes it wasn’t so hard all the time. Will wishes he didn’t have doubts in the first place, not when they’re always disproven.

Mike always manages to bring Will back from wherever he’s gotten himself lost. He knows him, and still chooses to stay by his side. It’s everything Will has wanted to hear, everything he knows he _deserves_, but there are moments where it feels like a house of cards. One little thing could make it all come falling down.

“I hate him,” Will blubbers. “I hate him, I hate him, _I hate him_.”

“I know,” Mike soothes, sounding just as upset. “I do, too. I hate what he’s done to you.”

That’s just it. Will has survived Demogorgons and the Upside Down. He’s fought off the Mind Flayer and his episodes. He’s still breathing despite everything that’s happened.

He’s faced so much worse than Lonnie, and yet it feels like the hardest battle of them all.

“Why did he even come back?”

Mike never lies to him. “For money,” he answers, disgust in his tone.

“Why couldn’t he have stayed gone?” Will hiccups. “Why does he always have to ruin everything?”

“’Cause he’s a piece of shit who cares about nobody but himself.”

Will’s face twists in irritation at the thought of his dad. It morphs into something sadder, more like heartbreak, remembering the look of distraught on his mom’s face as he came barrelling through the door.

There had been a protective flare to Jonathan as he stood up to him, red in the face. The rug had been pulled from under Will’s feet when Lonnie turned on him, barely able to get any words out before Jonathan had all but pushed Will out the door.

He’d heard it, though. The slurs. The disgust. It rang loud in his ears, louder than the storm as Will fumbled for his bike, feet finding the pedals as Lonnie’s booming infiltrated his head.

“What’d I tell you, Joyce? He’s a _fuckin’_ fag, is what he is!”

That’s when the tears started. That’s when Will had peeled away from his house, leaving behind the angry shouting. All that trauma that’d haunted Will through his childhood, throughout his early teenage years, it all came rushing back like it never left. It’d all been unearthed in a single moment, only having just been buried, and Will felt all of his progress come undone like stitching.

“Listen to me,” Mike murmurs. “You’re amazing. Don’t – don’t _fucking_ listen to a word he says. None of it’s true.”

“But I am, though!” Will bursts, falling away from Mike. He stands up, throwing his arms out. The towels fall to the ground, and he looks down at Mike, the burn of his anger fighting away the frost that bites at his skin.

Mike frowns. “You’re nothing like him.”

“I’m a _fag_.”

Mike springs up, his own towel abandoned on the sofa. He’s a head taller than Will, and so it’s more intimidating when Mike gets riled up, because it’s an echo of the way Lonnie would use his height as an advantage, towering over Will and making him feel all the more inferior.

“Don’t say that!”

“I am!”

“You’re incredible, Will Byers,” Mike’s voice is soft despite how heated he appears. “You – you’re _everything_, you understand?”

Mike is _nothing_ like Lonnie. Will knows this.

Except –

Sometimes he remembers -

_ “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”_

_“Stupid. So stupid.”_

_No._ Mike apologised. He’d even cried. It was a long time ago. Mike doesn’t think of Will as a burden, he _doesn’t_.

“Will.”

They’re together. Mike knows all about Will, from his trauma to his nervous tics. He accepts everything. It’s not – it’s not a lie. It’s real. It’s _real_.

He still can’t _breathe_.

“Look at me!”

Hands cup his face again, and his head gets tilted up. Everything else burns away once he looks at Mike, once he takes in the concern and the understanding and the pure warmth that radiates off of him in waves.

Mike’s still here.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Will bursts uncontrollably, thick with tears. His hands tremble as they reach up, curling around Mike’s wrists as if it’s the only thing he can do to hold himself together. “You don’t have to put up with this.”

“I _want _to,” Mike chokes out, pressing into Will’s space. “You hear me? I’m not – this isn’t-” A growl rips from his throat in frustration. “You’re not a liability. You’re nothing like he says. You need to _know_ that, Will. You need to know that there’s nothing that could be said or done to make me leave.”

“Are you _sure_?”

There’s a brief lapse of silence that stretches for a lifetime. Will’s heart won’t stop thudding away, threatening to burst. Mike still cradles his face, breath dusting Will’s mouth, and his thumbs gently graze over the skin of Will’s cheeks. It says a lot, but Will is terrified.

He’s worried he’s never going to be enough.

Mike pulls back slightly, enough to gaze into Will’s eyes. He’s asking for something, a silent plea shown by the glint that dances in his own. Will can’t bring himself to speak anymore, thinking he’s just going to make everything worse. And so he just nods, a slight jerk of his head. Whatever it is, he needs to hear it.

Mike tilts his head, leans in. He kisses Will softly once, twice, three times in quick succession, a graze of mouths. He pulls back, lips still faintly touching.

“I’ve nearly lost you a couple times already,” he whispers, catching in his throat. There’s a strain on his following words, damp and raw. “I can’t do it again.”

Will’s mouth falls open, but Mike silences his voice with another kiss. It’s harder than before, the grip on Will’s jaw tightening considerably, and it’s enough to make Will’s hands fall from Mike’s wrists to his shirt, gripping tightly.

“I _can’t_, Will,” he stresses once they pull apart. One of his hands falls to Will’s waist, pulling him flush against him, and his mouth is swollen and his eyes are glassy and there’s no sign of him going _anywhere_.

Fresh tears slip from down Will’s face. Mike thumbs them away.

“I _know_ you, and I know that you think you’re not enough. You think you’re weak, even though you’re the strongest person I know. You’re allowed to be scared, but you don’t see how brave you are. And I just - I don’t – I don’t _care_ what anyone else has to say, especially _him_. Whatever comes our way, we deal with it. _Together_.”

“Mike.” It falls out of Will’s mouth in a breath.

Mike smiles softly, sniffling lightly as his own tears run free. Will wants to kiss them away but he’s frozen in place. Will wants him so much that it takes a while to sink in sometimes.

“You’re more than enough, Will Byers,” he says. “I’ve never been more certain about anything.”

Will swallows thickly. “It’s not – it’s not going to be easy-”

“I know.”

“-I wouldn’t say I’m easy to _love_, either.”

It hangs in the air for several moments. There are echoes of Lonnie’s harsh words throughout the years that play in Will’s head like a record.

_He’s a fag. He’s a fairy. Ain’t nobody ever gonna love a boy like that._

“I don’t know about that,” Mike murmurs softly, thumbing at Will’s bottom lip. “It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Lonnie’s words fade away from a clear frequency to a crackle of static. The ice melts, and the sun comes out. The shadows still lurk, and there’ll surely be times where his pilot light fades, but Will thinks that he’ll be alright.

He surges up into Mike’s space, kissing him through his tears. His tongue traces against Mike’s bottom lip, and his mouth parts, and Will licks slowly into Mike’s mouth, savouring the taste of Mike and the way his mouth moves against his.

Mike is here. Mike is _always_ going to be here.

And throughout everything, Mike has always believed in one thing.

Will is more than enough.

And that’s all Will needs to keep fighting.

* * *

“Mike, I’m _this_ close to punching you.”

Mike huffs, poking Will’s thigh with his foot once again. “Pay attention to me.”

“I am,” Will replies, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. There’s a sketchbook open in his lap that he’s drawing away in, glancing up at Mike every so often. “I’m sketching you.”

Mike had figured as much, but Will hadn’t said for definite. Now that he knows, Mike can feel his face flaring up, grateful he’s lying on his back because he feels a little weak all of a sudden.

Maybe it’s because Will finds him interesting enough to draw. Maybe it’s just Will.

(Definitely Will.)

He grins lazily, staring up at the ceiling as he listens to the sound of Will’s pencil away at work, his soft sounds of approval as he goes. Music croons softly in the background, the vocals of _Mick Jagger_ echoing around the space.

It’s times like these he treasures a lot. With everything that’s happened, they’ve been so used to chaos, none stop running that leaves their legs tired and lungs screaming.

This, though. This is relaxed. It’s peace. It’s a freedom that they can cherish instead of counting down the seconds until it ends. The dust has settled, and it has for a while now, and there doesn’t seem to be anything on the horizon that’d tear them all down again. They can reach up high, and they can live, and they can breathe.

Mike can let himself have this. The boy that’s sat with his back against his headboard, humming under his breath as he sketches. The boy he’s loved all his life, and that he gets to call his own now.

Even just thinking about it makes Mike’s cheeks hurt.

“You’re meant to keep the same expression so I can draw you,” Will cuts in, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve looked like this the whole time.”

Something soft flickers across Will’s face. He ducks his head, resuming his work without saying anything else. Mike can see the curve of his mouth, the tint to his face, the crinkles by his eyes from the happiness that lingers.

It crashes over him like a wave in times like these. He can sit in silence with Will and he’ll never feel more at ease. He can stay here and look at him for hours, watching passion dance in his eyes at his art, and everything about Mike will be crying out _I love you_.

It’s not the first time he’s thought it. It definitely won’t be the last. It’s just that every time, it gives Mike a divine rush. The first time he’d told Will, they’d both been crying, Mike having confessed everything to him. From how he’s felt for a long time to what he’d told El when they’d broken up at the end of summer.

The first time he’d told Will how he feels, it had just as much intensity as now.

That feeling won’t ever truly fade.

There’s a knock at the door, as feather light and fleeting as a gust of wind. Mike almost misses it, too busy staring at the slope of Will’s nose and the parting of his mouth. It’s only because Will glances up, brightening at whoever it is, that Mike realises that they’re not alone in their bubble anymore.

Mike cranes his head against the mattress to look.

It’s El.

She’s stood in the doorway, a loose checked shirt wrapped around her frame, hair half pulled back with a scrunchie. She looks almost timid, like she doesn’t want to intrude, but Mike is already sitting up and swinging his legs beneath him to make room for her on the bed.

“Hey,” Mike says.

“Hey,” she answers, a light smile on her face. It dims in the next moment, looking almost hesitant. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Yeah, course,” Mike says, patting at the space in front of him on the bed.

“Ia everything okay?” Will asks.

Mike hears him moving his sketchpad out of the way as she walks into the room, nodding once, and it’s not until she’s got her knees pressing against the bed that alarm bells flare in Mike’s head.

She must be able to tell, written on both of their faces. Will has shuffled down away from the headboard to sit next to Mike, thighs pressing together and both facing her. Mike doesn’t have to look to know he’s concerned, and he nudges his knee against Will’s in reassurance.

“I just wanted to check on you both,” she informs them, paired with a light smile.

One he sees right through.

“Okay,” Will replies slowly.

There’s a moment where she and Will stare at each other, no words spoken between them. Her eyes flicker all over his face, and Will stiffens next to him, and Mike can’t help it. He reaches over, taking Will’s right hand in his left, squeezing tight.

Will squeezes back.

“It’s nothing bad,” she says, aimed at Will.

The Party have made this into a running gag, the fact that they’re super siblings. They’re convinced sometimes that El and Will are telepathic (or at least, Dustin _really_ hopes that they are).

Mike can have those moments with Will too where nothing needs to be said, where they both just _know_. That’s from knowing each other all their lives, though.

Mike just thinks that El and Will are so in sync because of everything that’s happened. They’re both full of light despite the darkness that’s coiled through their veins, that’s been wrapped around their bones.

Will nods once, squeezing Mike’s hand.

“El,” Mike says next. “Talk to us.”

He reaches over, extending a hand. She takes it, threading their fingers together, and Will does the same with his free one after a moment. They’re all holding hands together, and nobody comments on the fact that her fingers tremble, that her grip tightens every so often as if they’re going to let go.

“I just wanted to make sure you guys are okay,” she echoes.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Mike speaks first, frown deepening.

El falls quiet for several passing seconds, mouth scrunched up thoughtfully. There’s an uneasy feeling beginning to swarm in his stomach, dangerously close to the paranoia of monsters and the supernatural, of the things that haven’t plagued them since the mall a few months back.

He really hopes their luck isn’t about to end so soon.

“Because of the mouthbreathers,” she settles on saying.

A whoosh of breath escapes Mike in the next moment, relieved down to his bones. Next to him, Will is in a similar state, the tension rolling off of his body.

“What about them?” Will asks.

“They don’t know,” Mike says, tilting his head towards Will. _About us. They don’t know shit_.

El nods, but she’s frowning. “I figured,” she says. “It’s not any of their business. I just – I don’t know. They say things.”

“They _always_ say things,” Will says irritably.

Mike squeezes his hand.

“I wanted to know if you’re both safe.”

Mike turns then, craning his head to look at Will purposefully. “We aren’t a secret,” he says. “It’s just easier to keep it to ourselves, to the Party. They won’t hurt us.”

Translation – _I’m not ashamed of you. I could never be ashamed of you. It’s just better to avoid the assholes, even if it hurts. Even if it shouldn’t be a battle in the first place._

When Will squeezes his hand, that’s how Mike knows that he’s been heard.

“I just – I don’t know,” El fumbles, and they glance back over at her to see her looking visibly torn. “I don’t want to see you guys hurt.”

“We’re okay,” Will soothes, but she isn’t done.

“I know I don’t understand. About – about the things people say. Or why this is wrong, when it isn’t.”

Mike knows this. When they’d broken up, he’d cried over the names people used to call Will, the fear that he’d get called them, too. Or even worse. That he’d get beaten, or _Will_ would get hurt, just because they love boys.

El doesn’t understand the vulgar things people spit like acid or the methods of _curing_ people as if it were a favour opposed to torture. She might not understand any of it, much like them, but she understands the fear. That it’s real, and alive, thrumming inside them as loud as their beating hearts.

The fear at being hurt for being who you are is always there. She’d held him as he’d cried, and she’d cried, too. She’d confided in him, told him that the thought of her favourite boys suffering made her feel ill.

“El, it’s okay,” Mike says. It isn’t, and it’s far from it, but _they_ are. And that’s the important part. “We’re okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, and there’s something watery about it.

Will nudges his knee softly against hers. “We’ve got the best support system we could ask for,” he says, giving her a pointed look. “We’ll always be okay.”

Mike continues his words effortlessly. “Friends don’t lie.”

El nods fiercely, those words resonating deep within her like the chords of her favourite song. She looks more at ease now, like a weight has been lifted.

“If anyone ever says anything,” she says, pressing into them and clinging to them with a vice-like grip. “If anyone ever hurts you. Let me know.”

Mike hates how he feels his throat closing up. She’s full of love, a bright light in a sea of darkness, even after everything. He sees her, and sees others like the mouth breathers of the world, and wonders what excuses they could possibly have to fuel their hatred. El’s got dozens, and it never takes hold.

“Okay,” Will replies, smiling, whereas Mike practically bursts, “That sounds dangerously close to murder.”

“Only if necessary,” she counters, tongue poking through her teeth as she grins cheekily. The tension is diffused instantly, almost as if it was never there, and they’re all wearing matching grins through their teary eyes.

“I have a whole list,” Mike says next, beaming. “There’s been a _lot_ of assholes over the years-”

“_Michael_-”

“-Seriously, Will has put up with _so_ much shit-”

“I didn’t say right now-” El splutters, and the three of them squabble over each other, the traces of tears burning away as they laugh as though they’ve never been hurt.

And later, when they’re all sprawled over Will’s bed, she brings up something similar.

Mike is lounging back in his previous position, head at the foot of the bed, and El is curled up next to him with her head on his chest. Will is perched on the other side, back against the headrest, doodling away.

He glances up over his sketchpad to give Mike and El a fond smile, one that has a dazed expression settling over Mike’s face.

“I’m happy you two are together,” El says. “I’m happy that you’re both happy.”

“Thank you,” Will says sincerely. He pauses in the middle of a stroke of his pencil, staring at her with something Mike can’t quite place.

Mike remembers the guilt Will had felt at first. When everything was new, and exciting, but fairly recent following his and El’s break up. Mike physically couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, and he’d already talked it through with El, and she was on board. There was no reason to wait. Not when anything could be taken from them as quick as a blink.

Mike remembers how happy Will was. And how it’d fizzled out fairly quick, because he was so _upset_. Will had crumbled in front of him one night, and the sight had Mike in tears of his own, biting back all the comfort he’d wanted to give Will because Will wouldn’t let himself hear it.

“I’ve had feelings for you my whole life. I’m happy, I _am_, it’s just – I don’t want El to think that she’s not important. Like her feelings don’t matter, when they do. I don’t want her to feel like I don’t care about her, or that I’m _betraying_ her or something. And I know you said you’d spoken to her, but it’s different, because it’s _me_. I’m not just her friend, I’m her _brother_. I’m meant to look out for her, not hurt her.”

After that, Mike had calmed Will down from a panic. He’d soothed his worries, said that they’d all talk it out in the morning –

And then El had come bursting into his room because she’d heard Will’s crying, and then everything came pouring out. Will told her everything, and apologised so many times, even though there was nothing to be sorry for. El had told him just as much, teary eyed herself, reassuring Will long until the sun went down and came back up again.

Will hadn’t stopped to realise he was hurting himself. He always was, putting everyone else before himself, like he doesn’t matter nearly as much. It broke Mike’s heart in two, and El had been a mess, and the three of them had cried and held each other because they never want to lose what they have.

They all mean too much to one another, the rest of the Party included. They’re so used to things being taken away from them that having something so good didn’t feel real.

“Don’t run away from this, Will,” El had told him, soft and strained. “Don’t let the bad people take everything away.”

And he listened. Will wanted explicit permission from El to date Mike (which was adorable, but also heartbreaking at the same time) and she was more than happy to give him that. She reminded them both countlessly throughout the night that they deserved this. That the three of them would all be _okay_.

“I’ve wanted to thank you both, too,” she says then, and Mike snaps out of his head to gaze down at her. She’s not looking at either of them, toying with a loose thread of Mike’s jumper.

“What for?” Mike asks quietly. “We’re the ones that should be thanking you. A lot.”

“No, you don’t have to,” she disagrees softly.

A beat passes, and then she’s whispering, “Thank you for loving me.”

Mike’s throat closes up. Will stops sketching again. They both look at her with matching faces, with glassy eyes and twisted mouths.

“Always,” Will breaks first, voice gentle.

Mike simply squeezes her side, tugging her closer, hoping it says enough.

And it does.

Mike’s eyes drift away from the top of El’s head, travelling along the length of the bed. They roam until they meet Will’s, and they stay locked in a stare for several moments, both thinking the same thing.

_Thank you for loving me._

Will smiles after a while, a sunray breaking through thick storm clouds, and Mike’s heart jumps.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop.

* * *

They’re walking back to the Byers household with fuzzy heads and light limbs, nudging into each other as they walk. Will thinks that the smile on his face is going to split him in two, the warmth that rages in his chest feeling seconds away from burning him alive.

Mike’s knuckles brush against his every so often, arms swinging by their sides, and Will has to curl his fingers into a fist to stop himself from reaching out and tangling their fingers together.

They’re in public. It sucks, but it’s the best option they have. Their relationship is mainly reserved for behind closed doors, shielded away from the eyes of the public, but even glancing at him at school is more than enough. Knowing that he has Mike in a way nobody else does gives him a rush of adrenaline, a lightning strike that lingers in his veins.

“Thank you,” Will says, glancing up at him with a smile.

Mike laughs slightly. “You don’t need to thank me after every date,” he replies playfully.

Will huffs. “Excuse me for being polite.”

“Well, then, thank you for letting me take you out,” Mike counters, grinning.

They’d gone to the movies, and then grabbed a bite at a diner not too far away. The movie was good, even if Will would pay more attention to the boy next to him than anything, and he could barely stop giggling long enough to eat half the time. Mike would also be playing footsie with him under the table, the low light of one of the back booths concealing their feet, and it’d never fail to make Will stumble and flush.

They do this fairly often, these dates. It just so happens that today is a little different because it’s Will’s birthday.

He’d been adamant to Mike not to do anything special. He doesn’t care about birthdays, he never really has. There’s so many reasons as to why he thinks it’s just an ordinary day. Even over the years, when the Party would try and make it something special, Will wouldn’t budge. As much as he appreciated their efforts, as much as he loved them all, his birthday was never usually anything significant.

Mike had been stubborn, trying to argue that they’re dating now, that he’s meant to go all out for Will. And then Will had almost had a fit, because Mike would refuse his money when he’d try and pay for his own ticket or his own meal, and so anything more had Will paranoid. He just asks for Mike’s company on his birthday, no extra gift.

The date was more than enough, just like it always is.

The Byers house peeks over the horizon, and that’s when Mike stops walking.

Will frowns, turning back to look at him. “Everything okay?”

Mike shuffles, rubbing at the back of his neck. He makes an indecisive noise, like he can’t decide whether or not to say something, and it has Will on edge.

“What did you do?”

At that, Mike looks somewhat offended. “What makes you think I’ve done something?”

Will pins him with a flat look, and Mike crumbles.

“Yeah, okay, it was me,” he sighs, wincing slightly. He stares at Will, eyes flickering over his face as if trying to figure out how this will go.

“Just tell me,” Will says, voice gentle. “It’s okay.”

Mike lets it all out in a rush.

“I know you said you don’t like making a fuss for your birthday but the rest of the Party wanted to be involved somehow and I know your mom and Jonathan did too, and I just – I said I was taking you out, but afterwards, I’d bring you back home where everybody is waiting and we’d all do whatever you want, whether it’s a movie night or a game night or whatever, and we’d have cake and it would be a celebration but not a party, so technically, it’s not a big deal.”

Will blinks, a rush of affection sweeping over him. “Mike,” he starts.

“Don’t be mad!” Mike says, holding out his hands. “I just – I know birthdays are hard for you. I know how hard it was for you to even let me take you out. It’s just – you deserve so much, okay? And I’m not the only person that loves you. They wanted to do something just as much as I did.”

“I’m not mad,” Will says. “It’s just a lot. I’m just – I’ll struggle a little.”

“That’s okay,” Mike replies instantly. “It is. We know that. We’re just – we’re here for you, okay?”

“This is such _bullshit_.”

Mike’s face falls. “Will-”

“I really want to kiss you right now but I can’t.”

“_Oh_,” says Mike. A bashful smile creeps back onto his mouth. “Yeah, me too.”

They continue walking to the house after that, but their eyes are more on each other than the ground ahead, and there’s the occasional stumble over their own feet because of it. They laugh, and they brush against each other again, and Will thinks already that this is the best birthday he’s ever had.

True to Mike’s word, everyone is already waiting for them once they get inside. There are streamers and banners decorating the walls, string lights still in their rightful places, and there’s a huddle of the most important people in Will’s life yelling a chorus of _happy birthday_ as soon as he sets foot through the door.

There’s a flash, and Jonathan lowers his camera, clearly having been waiting to get Will’s surprised reaction. It mustn’t be what he was expecting, because after a moment, Jonathan shakes his head fondly and smiles.

“Mike totally told him,” he says, laughing slightly.

“_Mike!_” whines the rest of the Party.

They’ve got party hats perched on their heads and Dustin has a party horn sticking out of his mouth, and they’re all pinning Mike with varying looks of disapproval, Max even going as far as to roll her eyes.

The five of them start squabbling, and Will just watches affectionately for several moments before Joyce approaches him, beaming wide.

“Happy birthday, baby,” she coos, wrapping him up into a hug. Behind her, he can see Nancy and Hopper and Steve and Robin, and there’s a lump forming in his throat that he struggles to swallow around, overwhelmed in the best of ways.

“Thanks, mom,” he says, hugging her back just as fiercely. He finds he means it, letting himself sink into her arms and for his eyes to shut, taking in the love in the room and how he’s never felt safer than this moment.

“What part of a _surprise_ party don’t you get?” he hears Max call out.

Will pulls away just in time to see Mike throw his hands up defensively. “He was still surprised, just prepared!”

Will snorts, and then everyone’s turning to look at him. “He’s right, and I’m glad. As nice as it is, it’s a little overwhelming.”

Having so many people care about him is a lot to take in. He’s known it for a long time now, but it still takes him by surprise. It still feels new, and foreign, even when it’s as natural as breathing. Will hates feeling this way, but he’s come to terms with it now. He knows it’s due to everything that’s happened. He’s got scars that can’t always be seen but can always be felt, and they’ll fade but never truly disappear. And he’s okay with that.

He’s got a family.

After that, the party kicks in full swing. Music starts blaring, and they play various board games and card games, dancing until their legs feel numb and singing ‘til their voices give out. It’s simple, but it’s just right.

Later, his mom brings out a cake that’s littered with fifteen candles, and everyone sings over each other in an out of tune rendition of _happy birthday_. To Will, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

He doesn’t even hesitate before blowing out his candles in one big breath to the chorus of everyone’s cheers.

Shortly after, he’s sprawled out on the sofa, head in Mike’s lap. El is lying next to him, curled up against his side, and Max and Lucas are sat on the floor with their backs to the sofa. Dustin is off to the side squabbling with Steve, whilst Robin cackles at their antics, and everyone else is in the kitchen talking and getting everyone a piece of cake ready.

The Party members obviously know about their relationship. Joyce does, and Jonathan, because Will confided in them both about it a few weeks back. And Nancy was one of the first people Mike came out to in confidence, and had been nothing but supportive. Hopper probably knows, but he probably doesn’t fully approve. It’s _Mike_, after all. They’re still not the best of friends just yet.

Steve and Robin work at the video store and have seen the two come in countless times on their own, and they’d always tease and call out _have fun on your date_ when there was nobody else around. Maybe Dustin had told them something, or maybe they’re just that obvious. Or maybe it’s both.

Will doesn’t mind. It is still a little overwhelming; that the way he feels is so obvious and out in the open, that people can look at him and figure him out without being told anything. There’s still an element of fright, but it’s soothed by the warmth. There’s nobody in this room that Will doesn’t trust.

He doesn’t feel the need to hide the fact that he’s smitten.

(Not that he’s ever really been able to.)

“What’d you wish for?” Max asks curiously.

“You can’t ask him that!” Lucas crows. “He can’t say, because then it won’t come true!”

“Oh, come _on_,” Max moans, but El nods along in agreement with Lucas, and Max sighs. “I bet he’ll tell Mike.”

“Nope,” Will denies. He grins up at Mike, who looks down at him and pauses in playing with Will’s hair, look of teasing disbelief on his face.

“Is that so?”

Will waits until Max and El and Lucas fall into a conversation before he answers, soft and slow.

“You already know.”

Mike quirks an eyebrow. “I do?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “It’s already come true.”

At that, Mike softens, features smoothing out. His hand tangles back into Will’s hair, threading through with gentle fingertips. Mike even leans down to kiss him in the next breath, and Will can feel the smile tugging at his mouth.

Throughout all his birthdays, even the bad ones, Will had always wished for the same thing.

Will had always wished for Mike.

This year, though, he didn’t have to.

* * *

Mike is lying on his side, staring at the back of Will’s head when there’s a soft knock at the door.

Mike lets his eyes fall away from Will for a brief moment towards the door. A second later, Dustin pokes his head round the door, eyes immediately settling on Mike. His gaze trickles to Mike’s side, where Will is bundled up beneath his duvet, on his side with the covers tight against his ears, and his face slackens.

“Will, they’re here,” Mike whispers softly, turning his head to stare at Will again.

Will says nothing.

Mike fights the sadness that threatens to creep up his throat, craning his neck to jerk his head, giving Dustin the all clear. He watches as Dustin edges into the room, and then El, and Max, and Lucas, quietly coordinated as opposed to the usual mess that they all are.

It’s different today.

“Hey, Will,” Max says, ending the uneasy silence. She flounces over to the other side of the bed, to where Will is facing the wall. She simply lowers herself to the floor, crossing her legs beneath her, looking straight ahead at the tuft of hair and the glimpse of hooded eyes peeking out over the covers.

“I beat my score on Dig Dug the other day,” she continues casually, before gently easing into a spiel about her latest trip to the arcade.

A part of Mike resents the way she’s so natural with Will at times like these. Mike is always the first, but Max is a close second, taking Will’s low periods in stride as though it’s nothing. The thing that bothers Mike the most is how at ease she is, like it doesn’t tear her up inside. As though being unable to touch Will during these episodes is something she’s perfectly fine with. And he knows that’s not the case, knows that her heart bleeds just as much as his, but he can’t help it.

It eats away at Mike all the time. Whenever Will has a down day like today, he wants nothing more than to curl up flush against Will, to wrap an arm around his waist or bury a hand in his hair. And sometimes he can. Other times though, like today, Will can’t handle it. Contact makes everything worse, makes him even sadder. Today is a day where Mike has to wait and let Will come to him.

Today is a day where Mike feels most helpless.

Max continues talking softly, and so Mike pulls himself up into a seating position, close enough to Will to offer comfort without touching him. He pulls his legs up, hugging them to his chest, making room for the rest of the Party.

El sits in front of him, and then Dustin behind her, and Lucas is left to sit at the foot of the bed at Will’s curled up form, impossibly small beneath the sheets.

“Thanks for coming,” Mike says quietly, voice strained. He can’t pry his eyes away from Will, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Anytime,” Lucas replies sincerely, before brightening, even though Will can’t see him. “Will, I’m getting _so_ close to a personal best! I think I might even beat Max soon!”

Max snorts. “Fat chance, Sinclair.”

They squabble, creating a light atmosphere that tricks them all into believing it’s just a regular day. That Will is just resting instead of being bone-achingly drained. That he can speak without it feeling like he’s running a marathon, even if it’s just a few words.

They were meant to all meet at the arcade. Mike had stayed the night at the Byers’, and when he woke up, Will was still curled up in bed. He figured he was still asleep, but when he tried to wake him up, he saw Will was already awake. He just wasn’t moving.

He was silently crying.

Mike had tried to get him to talk. And when that didn’t work, Mike just tried talking to fill the silence, to let Will know that he’s not going anywhere. He talked because it helped it all to seem normal, because he knows Will feels like a freak during his bad days. He feels like a burden.

He’s anything but, and Mike wants Will to know that, always.

He’d radioed Dustin, telling him that they weren’t going to make it. He said it was red instead of amber for the days that were yet to be decided, or green for a good day. It’s a red day, the kind that brings everything to a halt, a build-up of traffic that can’t be diverted. They have to sit and wait it out until the traffic starts to clear up again.

Dustin said that they could come over, but that was the first time in hours Will had responded. It was small, barely there. A shake of his head that seemed to drain the final dregs of fight from his body, head falling against the pillow as though it was too heavy to hold up again. He was saying no, they didn’t have to. He didn’t want to spoil their fun.

Mike said this with a weighted heart and a dry tongue, voice hoarse like he was dehydrated. He felt marginally better when Dustin had ignored the protests, and the crackle of their four friends talking at once came through the receiver, and then Dustin was telling him that they’d be there soon, _over and out._

Gratefulness doesn’t even begin to cover how Mike feels about his friends.

They all fall into varying conversations, between a few of them or as a group. Will still doesn’t talk. Mike doesn’t know if it’s him hoping, but Will seems more relaxed. He’s still curled up, still not really moving, but the tension in his shoulders seems marginally lighter, the little tremors that’d been shaking his body having ceased.

Mike wants to hold him.

He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t think Will is ready for that yet. He doesn’t want to unless Will tells him he’s ready.

In fact, they stay there for a little over an hour before there’s any progress. Mike spends half the time burning holes into the back of Will’s head, out of love more than anything. He’s concerned, but he doesn’t treat Will like glass. He knows that this happens. Mike gets like it himself sometimes. He understands, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

They’re in the middle of a heated debate over _Back to the Future_, Mike occasionally throwing in a half-hearted comment, when Will shifts.

Everyone tries not to make a big deal out of it, but it’s hard. They’re relieved, which is what makes Lucas’ voice falter in the middle of cursing out Dustin, what makes El sit up straighter.

Will turns his head, blinking slow. He looks sickly pale, and exhausted, almost like he’s not slept in days. His hair is all over the place and there are deep trenches beneath his eyes instead of bags, and he seems frozen for a moment as he takes everything in.

His voice cracks from the weight of speaking, barely audible over the frantic beat of Mike’s heart.

“All clear.”

Instantly, Mike’s falling into Will’s space. He can tell the others are forcing themselves back, he can see them shifting in his peripherals, but all he can care about in this moment is Will.

He aligns himself so that he’s flush against Will’s body, a hand loose in his hair. Will has turned so that he’s lying flat on his back, facing the ceiling, but his eyes are fluttered closed again as if trying to block everything out. Mike goes as far as to press a kiss to the side of his temple, but that’s it. He doesn’t want to push, not even if Will is giving them the go ahead.

He smiles down at Will, whose eyes are still shut. They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. The others start talking again, and it gives Mike a chance to check up on Will properly, low for his ears only.

“How are you feeling?”

Will doesn’t say anything. He just slips a hand out from beneath the duvet, reaching behind him and holding his palm upright. Mike’s hand finds his urgently, coiling their fingers together, and goosebumps erupt all over Mike’s skin when he feels the faint squeeze against his hand.

Mike takes that as a small victory.

They stay like that long into the night. Joyce checks up on them after a while, with a tight-lipped smile and glassy eyes, drinking in the sight of her boy still upset in his bed. Mike tries to reassure her with a smile of his own, but it feels tight, like an elastic stretched too thin. They all care too much to really pretend to be anything but.

Joyce realises after a while that none of them are going to leave. She finds them all extra blankets and sleeping bags for when they want to settle down. Mike is the only other person on the bed, with the rest of the Party members scattering themselves on the floor closest to Will’s side.

It’s when they’re all winding down that Mike hears it, low for his ears only.

“I’m sorry.”

Mike swallows, running his fingers through Will’s hair. “I know,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to be, though. I’m with you, okay?”

Will nods, glancing at Mike for the first time that day, and it floods him with warmth. Will looks pained, almost hesitant, but Mike doesn’t want to hold back any longer.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Will’s head as his face crumples.

It takes several moments before Will answers, teary and wobbly. “Okay.”

And just before they all turn out the lights and bid one another goodnight, Will manages to find the strength to grab hold of them instead of letting go.

“It’s okay,” he says. It’s pitchy, but it’s loud, resonating throughout the room like a bang as opposed to all of his other whimpers.

It’s him letting them all know that they can touch him. That he won’t break this time around.

Dustin is the first one up, already rising to his feet. “Group cuddle?” he asks excitedly.

“_No_,” Mike groans playfully, but El’s already darting round the foot of the bed to spoon Mike from behind, smiling into the material of his shirt.

“What was that, Wheeler?” Max taunts, opting to simply let herself fall on top of the bed, cackling at the sounds of discomfort Mike lets out when she lands on his legs.

Will giggles, is the thing.

It’s the best thing they’ve heard all day.

Dustin climbs on top of El, who lifts an arm to let him nestle into her ribs, and then Lucas is the last one to join, gently perching himself at Will’s feet to lean down and rest his head against Will’s knees.

There’s elbows digging into ribs and body parts being squished, all in a pile on Will’s single bed. In despite of all the weight, Mike has never felt lighter.

And when he glances back at Will, still holding his hand, he finds that he’s not alone in that.

Will still looks drained. He will be for the next few days. But there’s something alight in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a sense of comfort and relief glinting away. The corners of his mouth are tugged slightly upward, and not even the dark circles beneath his eyes could drown out the light that breaks through in the lines of his face.

“As touching as this is, _really_,” murmurs Mike sarcastically. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Good.”

“That’s just because of all the _love_, Mike,” says Dustin, who giggles when El starts tickling his sides.

“I can’t really breathe, though,” Will pipes up, small but strong.

Just like that, they’re all scrambling off of each other in a mass of limbs, giggling breathlessly and radiating pure light.

The rest of the group end up on the floor, consumed by various blankets and sleeping bags, bickering quietly as the night draws to a close. Mike finds he can’t pry his eyes away from Will, much like always.

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” Mike says quietly, lips brushing the skin of Will’s forehead. “I promise.”

There’s a tight squeeze of his hand, one that doesn’t let up until Will eventually drifts off to sleep, the echo of a smile playing on his face.

Mike murmurs _I love you_ into Will’s hair. It’s the last thing he does before falling asleep himself.

And it’s the first thing he does when he wakes up.

* * *

“Mike, look at me.”

“I _can’t_.”

The weight of the words that tumble from Mike’s mouth make Will pause, dread curling in his stomach. He’s heard Mike upset before, but this is different.

He’s stood at the floor length mirror in the corner of his room, his back to Will and his eyes downcast. He’s got nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms on, fisting a shirt in his hands, knuckles white from the tight grip he has on it.

The sight tightens something in Will’s chest, nasty and unnerving.

“Hey,” he whispers quietly. He walks up behind Mike, opting to rest his forehead in between Mike’s shoulder blades. There’s a long breath that slips past Will’s lips before he lifts his hands, deliberately slow. His fingers are outstretched and they brush the skin of Mike’s back delicately, falling down to curl against Mike’s hips. “You’re beautiful. You know that?”

“Shut up,” Mike laughs hollowly, head still bowed.

Will watches him fidget, bare toes wiggling in discomfort. Will even lifts his head after a moment, peeking over Mike’s shoulders once he raises himself onto his tiptoes. He sees Mike worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, his nose scrunching in disagreement, and Will deflates back down to the soles of his feet.

“I’m serious,” he says, coiling his arms around Mike’s hips, palms resting against Mike’s stomach.

Mike’s breath hitches, but Will doesn’t move. He simply presses his mouth to the centre of Mike’s shoulder blades in a feather light kiss.

It’s soft, impossibly so. It’s Will treading lightly, knowing that Mike is teetering dangerously on the tightrope he’s walking on, dripping of self-loathing.

Mike lifts his chin then, and Will doesn’t have to peer over him to know that there are tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know why I get like this still. I just – I don’t know. I feel uncomfortable sometimes in my own skin, and I hate it.”

“I understand,” Will says, an echo of sadness. He runs the pads of his thumbs across Mike’s skin. “I just wish I could make it better somehow.”

They share the same scars but wear different ones, too. They’ve been equally as hurt but the depths in which things run vary. Will’s fears are more tied into the Upside Down, whereas Mike’s range from Will disappearing to his own appearance. And today is one of the days in which Mike hates nothing more than himself, and it makes Will feel ill.

Mike turns in the next breath, abandoning his shirt to the floor in favour of cupping Will’s face. His thumbs graze Will’s jawline, a face full of adoration. “I know I – I know it’s difficult sometimes, but you’re why I get through it.”

He snags Will’s bottom lip with his thumb, and Will kisses the pad with a gentleness that comes easy when he’s with Mike. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, voiced like a promise.

Mike’s mouth moves but no words come out, and he seems to give up. He lets himself cave, eyes fluttering shut, leaning down to rest his forehead against Will’s.

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” he admits. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m going to wake up and you’re not going to be there anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Will reassures him. “I know what it’s like to be scared all the time. I know how you feel. It’s just – I’m always going to be here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Even on days like this?” Mike bursts. His eyes shoot open, everything about him drenched in blue. “Even – even when I’m a mess?”

“Even then,” Will counters easily, hands reaching up to curl around Mike’s wrists. “You’re with me on _my _bad days.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t,” says Will. He takes Mike’s wrists and gently tugs him forward, guiding his arms around his waist. He reaches up, taking Mike’s face in his palms, thumbs tilting his jaw so that their eyes meet. His voice is strong as he continues to guide Mike through the dark.

“We don’t owe each other anything, not like that. It took me a while to get that, but I do now. I’m not – I don’t hold you through times like this because I feel like I _have_ to. I do it because I love you.”

Mike ducks into Will’s space to kiss him, mouths slanting over one another before his tongue brushes Will’s bottom lip. Will’s mouth falls open, and Mike licks into his mouth in soft strokes, curling his fingers into the base of Will’s spine, tugging Will flush against him.

“I meant it, you know,” Will murmurs into his mouth. “You’re beautiful. You’re the most beautiful person I know.”

Mike pulls away enough to quirk an eyebrow at Will, eyes still glazed over with traces of tears. “Clearly you haven’t been looking very hard then.”

“You’re right, I haven’t,” Will says, kissing Mike softly on the mouth once, twice, before confessing. “I’ve never looked at anyone else. I’ve never wanted to.”

He watches Mike swallow thickly, looking seconds away from crumbling again.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

Will smiles through the start of his own tears. “I know,” he says thickly. Because he does. “And I love you.”

Mike leans in first this time. It’s slow and languid, savouring the moment, and everything else melts away. They take their time, wrapped up tightly in one another, Mike’s fingers curling into the back of Will’s shirt and Will’s grip tightening on Mike’s face, thumbs still skimming his jawline.

Mike’s tongue brushes his lightly, and Will can’t help but let out a breathy laugh, the sensation warming him right down to his toes.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs into Mike’s mouth.

He’s talking about Mike. He’s talking about _this_, the way Mike makes him feel. He’s talking about the two of them, that this is how it’s meant to be. That this is always how they were meant to collide.

He breaks away from Mike’s mouth to kiss at the skin of his jaw, overwhelmed with love. He hears Mike inhale swiftly, and his fingers dip beneath Will’s shirt to graze at his skin, and it’s just as heated as the fire burning away inside Will. It’s never going to fade.

Will doesn’t think he could ever love anyone the way he’s loved Mike all these years.

“_You_,” Mike whispers suddenly. He turns his head, nose brushing Will’s cheek before kissing him soundly. He pulls back after a moment, breath fanning over Will’s mouth. “So are _you_.”

Will doesn’t think he could ever be loved by anyone else other than Mike.

* * *

They’re lying flat on their backs, sprawled across a blanket as they stare up at the night sky. They might only be in the Byers’ backyard, but it’s enough. They’re in a decent spot where they can see the glint and gleam of various stars in the sky, not a cloud in sight, and everything is calm.

“I was talking to my mom earlier.”

“Mhm,” Mike says absently. He’s got a hold of Will’s wrist and is toying happily with his fingers.

Every so often, Will flicks his hand or messes with his fingers in retaliation, and every time Mike just twists their pinkies together and gives Will a look of content.

“You never told me you spoke to her about us.”

“What do you mean?”

Will turns his head, meeting Mike’s gaze. “She told me about how you spoke to her when we first got together.”

_Oh._

“Yeah, she deserved to know,” Mike shrugs it off, taking great interest in Will’s fingernails.

Will’s hand twists in his grip, threading their fingers together, and their clasped hands fall into the small gap between them. Nothing else gets said, and after several moments, Mike takes the hint and cranes his neck to see Will already staring at him, something soft in his eyes.

“You asked her permission.”

Mike makes a strangled noise. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says. “I just – I don’t know. Her approval, maybe.”

“You really thought you needed to?” Will asks. Adoration seeps through every syllable, and Mike flushes pink. “My mom loves you. She always has.”

“I needed to make sure.”

An amused quirk plays on Will’s mouth. “I don’t know why you’d think-”

“I needed to make sure I was good enough for you.”

A silence falls over them then, loud and weighted.

“Mike,” Will breathes out, face falling.

“She’s the most important person to you. And she’s important to me, and I just – I wanted to make sure that I was – that she didn’t mind, I guess.”

“You’re important to me, too,” Will says, shuffling closer to him. “More than you know.”

Mike smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. He lets his head fall back to stare up at the sky, and the stars seem to burn impossibly brighter, blurring slightly.

“She said to me,_ honey, there’s nobody better for my boy than you._ And I just – it surprised me. It’s what I wanted to hear, but I guess I didn’t think she would say it.”

“Why?” asks Will quietly, leaning in close enough to rest his head on Mike’s chest.

And that’s a loaded question. Mike’s got many answers.

He’d dated El and it hadn’t worked, and he didn’t want Hopper or Joyce to think that he was just going to hurt Will, that he wasn’t serious about him. He’d have panic attacks when the sun goes down about being abandoned and not being enough, and Will already had his own problems. Maybe Mike’s would be too much.

He’d known for his whole life that Will Byers deserves the world. And as someone that cares about him, Mike needs to be sure that he’s going to get it. That Mike isn’t going to make things worse, that he _deserves_ Will in the first place.

So Mike tells him that.

“You deserve _so_ much. I just didn’t think I was able to give you that.”

_Sometimes I still don’t_, he bites back. A part of him knows it’s just the doubt talking, his fears whispering away at him. The paranoia that he’s not worthy of someone like Will, and the terror of losing it all in the next breath. It all plays on his mind, even though a part of him knows it’s not real. That Will isn’t going anywhere. That he loves Mike despite everything that tries to get Mike to fight it off.

Mike’s never been good at keeping things from him, nor has he been good at keeping _away_ from him. Even before they were dating, Mike confided in Will over everything. That wasn’t going to change, even if it was hard.

It’s why Will knows this already, that Mike’s still scared long after they’re official. Even though the _I love you’s_ they trade are as natural as breathing.

They’ve had countless reasons over the years to be scared. There are still reasons as to why that fear can’t go away. They both know this, and they fight it every day. Mike might have doubts about how good he is for Will some days, but Will always manages to bring him back from the ledge, to reassure his troubles.

Like now.

Mike feels Will cuddling up flush against his side, burrowing into his ribs, head resting against his chest. He feels Will’s eyes burning into the underside of his jaw, which is clenched tight as he fights to keep the tears concealed.

“You do, and you always have,” Will murmurs. “I’ve always been happy being your friend. I’m just even happier now than before.”

Mike blows out a slow breath, feeling the sickness and the doubt leaving his bones. “I’m glad,” he says. “I’m really glad. I just – I love you. I wish things were that simple all the time.”

_I wish my mind didn’t play tricks on me._

He feels Will nod against his chest, fingertips curling into the fabric of Mike’s shirt.

“Yeah, but then it wouldn’t really be us, would it?”

And yeah. That’s true.

It coaxes a bittersweet smile out of Mike. Without the heartbreak and the fear, they wouldn’t have fallen together like they have. It’s shaped them, helped them understand what it is they want, who it is that they want to _be_. Without being dragged through hell and back, Mike doesn’t think he’d ever have gotten the courage to fight his demons, to let himself have the boy in his arms.

Things are fleeting. Mike knows now how to take hold of them before they fly away.

“I just can’t believe you spoke to _my mom_ about dating me.”

The darkness fizzles away. A light blooms in the void. No matter how deep things run or how thick the fog gets, Will always guides him home.

“I was being _chivalrous_.”

Will cackles loudly. “Oh my God. I’m _so_ telling Max.”

“What? No!”

“_Yes_,” Will giggles breathlessly.

Mike rolls over, lunging to tickle at Will’s ribs. Their laughter fills the air, breaking the quiet that’d fallen, and there’s an effortless smile tugging wide at Mike’s cheeks.

“It was cute!”

“_Thank you_!”

Will falls back down against the ground, tugging Mike with him, hands cupping his face. They’re a mess of giggles and limbs and Will pulls him down to kiss him, and Mike swallows his laughter, chest light.

“You know, Joyce asked me how long I’d been into you for.”

“Oh, God,” Will blanches, nudging his nose against Mike’s. “What’d you say?”

“What she already knew.”

“What, a couple of weeks? ‘Cause that’s how long we’d been dating when you had this talk with her. That’s what she said to me, anyway.”

And that’s right. They hadn’t been together long before Mike sat with Joyce and spoke about everything on his mind, about how he’s going to look after her son.

It’s just that his feelings date back way longer than that.

Mike grins. “I was thinking more along the lines of kindergarten.”

Will looks dazed for a moment, and then he’s surging up into Mike’s space, kissing him hard. Mike breathes him in, and they fall back, Mike’s weight pressing on top of Will without a care in the world.

“You deserve so much, too,” Will breaks apart from him after a moment to whisper into the space between them. “I’m going to try all I can to give you that.”

Mike lunges down to kiss him again, tongue stroking into Will’s mouth, tasting happiness.

He doesn’t tell him that Will already has.

He thinks it goes without saying.

* * *

They’re in Will’s room with the music of _The Cars_ gently floating around in the background. There’s a storm raging outside his window, and usually, even just darkened skies are enough to set him off. Except today there’s a torrential downpour pelting the glass and crackles of thunder and claps of lightning fill the air, and Will has never felt safer.

This kind of warmth is something he’s been feeling for a long time now.

His mom and Hopper are out working, Jonathan is off somewhere with Nancy, and El is with Max. It’s just the two of them, just the way it should be.

Will is lounging back against his bed, head crushed into his pillow, absently watching Mike flick through some of his latest drawings. He’s on his belly, feet crossed and sky high, and his back is to Will. It’s a calm image that Will has known in various forms over the years, but has changed in these past several months to be something more personal, more intimate.

It’s the two of them for miles, in their own little world. It’s just that for the longest time now, Will no longer has to fight against the twitch in his fingertips that urges him to reach out for Mike, to pull him in and hold him close. Will doesn’t have to sit in silence over his feelings and whether Mike would ever look back at him.

It’s not a fantasy anymore. It’s a reality.

It’s golden.

There’s a smile playing along his mouth when Mike cranes his head to glance back over his shoulder, face softening as soon as he catches sight of his boyfriend sprawled out on the bed, without a care in the world and looking as content as ever.

“These are incredible,” Mike tells him, holding up Will’s sketches without breaking his gaze.

Warmth pools low in Will’s gut, cheeks glowing from the praise. His eyes fall down to his sheets. “They’re okay.”

There’s movement, the rustling of paper and shuffling of material, and then Mike is in his space. In the blink of an eye, Mike is straddling Will’s thighs, leaning over so that they’re face to face. Mike’s hair is wild and curly and the glow of Will’s bedroom light gives him a halo, and Will’s breath hitches through no fault of his own.

It’s because of everything _Mike_.

“Hey,” he whispers. He takes both of Will’s hands in his own, curling their fingers together, holding them against the mattress. He lowers his face to brush their noses together, breath ghosting over Will’s mouth. “They’re amazing, okay? _You’re_ amazing.”

“Mouth breather,” Will can’t help but tease, grinning wide as Mike huffs playfully.

It’s not as if he’s trying to ruin the moment. It’s just that sometimes, it’s still overwhelming. Much like how Mike takes him out on dates, and arranges for all their friends to do something on birthdays, and to just simply be there for him when he’s having a bad day.

It’s _love_. For the longest time growing up, it was a tug of war constantly pulling him under. His mom is an angel, but Lonnie was a nightmare, and it became hard to accept when he’d been so used to bad outweighing the good. Sometimes, he still has those moments where his chest gets tight, where it’s difficult to accept that Mike loves him back.

They’ve been dating a little over a year now. It’s been the best year of Will’s life, even if times were still tough. Even after all this they’ve done together. Even after everything they’ve faced with their friends. There’s still that feeling that lurks in the back of his head like a shadow, deep in his heart like an abyss.

They’ve both got their demons, and some days, they’re too loud to be ignored.

This, though. This isn’t one of those days.

He can feel it. There’s no build up in his chest, and the smile stays light on his face. His skin doesn’t crawl with discomfort at being touched, and his cheeks are still rosy from Mike’s praise, and there’s fire in the wake of each and every one of Mike’s touches, from the weight of his body to the brush of his thumbs.

This is a good thing.

There’s nothing bad about it.

“Seriously, though. You’re so good at art.”

“Well,” says Will, feeling his cheeks darken. “I had a good model.”

“That _is_ true,” Mike agrees, laughing when Will rolls his eyes.

Mike’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and there’s freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, and they’re the small details that Will loves the most. They’re the features that are most prominent in his latest works, the charcoal sketches of Mike’s profile that’ve been abandoned at the base of his bed.

“I wish I could draw,” says Mike next. “I’d want to draw you like you draw me.”

“You drew me yesterday.”

Mike gives him a flat look. “Stickmen don’t count.”

“Yeah, they do,” Will insists, bashful smile high on his mouth. “Why do you think it’s up on my wall?”

Will watches a wave wash over Mike’s face, lines smoothing out and lips parting, becoming impossibly soft. His own face flares even deeper, not that he’d thought it were possible, but Mike never ceases to amaze him.

Mike’s eyes shine as he closes some space between them, resting their foreheads together, squeezing Will’s hands.

“You’re my favourite, you know that?” Mike murmurs.

Will doesn’t get to answer, because Mike leans down to kiss him in the next breath.

Mike kisses him gently, mouths moving together as seamlessly as they have over the years. Will manages to free his hands, lifting them to cup Mike’s face, thumbs stroking the soft skin of his cheeks as he pulls him closer. Mike’s hands fall immediately to Will’s sides, grasping his shirt in his hands and tugging it up. They edge beneath the material, fingertips grazing bare skin, leaving what feels like fire in the wake of every cool touch.

“Yeah,” Will breathes out after a moment.

He does. He does know that. Just like Mike should know that the same goes for him, too.

“And you’re mine.”

They meet in the middle this time. Mike’s tongue flicks out this time around, grazing Will’s bottom lip agonizingly slow. Will sighs against his mouth, tongues brushing, licking into Mike’s mouth in slow strokes.

There’s nothing but each other. The music becomes non-existent, just like the world around them. It all fades away into nothing, as if it doesn’t matter. As if nothing else will matter ever again.

Everything about Mike is intoxicating, and Will can’t get enough. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to now that he knows what it feels like to have Mike’s weight on top of him, what he tastes like, how he breathes.

Will doesn’t think he could let Mike go. Luckily for him, he doesn’t think he’ll have to.

Mike’s fingers skim over his ribs, along his sides, and goosebumps erupt all over his skin. Mike grins into his mouth, and after a moment, he pulls his lips away to ghost them along Will’s jawline. Will lets his eyes flicker shut, hands threading into Mike’s hair as Mike reaches his neck, tongue peeking out to lap at the skin of Will’s throat.

“You’re so gorgeous, Will,” Mike murmurs into his skin, a sweet grin followed by a delicate kiss.

“Shut up,” Will laughs breathlessly, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re beautiful,” continues Mike. He lifts his head, bottom lip dragging over Will’s skin before pulling back enough to gaze at Will with hooded eyes and a puffy mouth. “You drive me crazy.”

_Crazy together._

Will feels as though he’s been set alight. He fists Mike’s hair in his hands gently, tugging him up to meet his mouth. Their teeth clash as they stumble, falling into each other, and Will frees his legs from beneath Mike’s weight to hook around his waist.

Mike’s hands fall to Will’s thighs, pressing against Will’s mouth harder. Mike groans when Will tugs lightly at the strands in his hands, mouth falling open, and Will slips his tongue into Mike’s mouth, frantic like a fever he can’t shake.

Will pulls back enough to nip at Mike’s bottom lip, who huffs out a swift breath, his grip tightening on Will’s thighs.

“Will-”

“_Wheeler?!_”

Their bubble doesn’t just pop, it bursts, and Mike and Will spring apart as though they’ve been burned. Their chests heave with deep breaths, wearing matching looks of disheveled hair and puffy mouths and hooded eyes. They’re dazed for all of three seconds before they catch sight of who is in the doorway, and the calm fades into a storm.

Hopper is standing with his face pinched and his knuckles clenched. Upon spotting him, Will feels Mike tense. Nobody says anything for several long moments, and Hopper finishes surveying the scene before him with a twisted mouth and a scrunched nose.

“First my daughter, now my son?”

It’s low, laced with venom but dangerously balanced, and Will scrambles forward to sit on his knees in front of Mike before he can think it over.

“Don’t be like that,” he says, wincing at how strained his voice sounds. His heart is beating rapidly, and it’s a mixture of Mike and Hopper calling him _son_ and all the love he feels for both people in the room. “It’s not – it’s not like that. It’s not what you think. Mike hasn’t hurt anyone.”

It’s not as if Hopper didn’t have an inkling about Mike and Will. If anything, Joyce would’ve said something. And whilst Hopper is one person Will has never outright told about his relationship or who he is, he’s observant. He’s smart. And Will is _obvious_ as _hell_, and so it really shouldn’t be such a surprise after all this time.

He just figures it comes as a shock. Not because it’s the two of them, though. Hopper had told Will once before that he deserves to be happy given everything that’s happened, and Will doesn’t think that Hopper would be against him dating a boy, even if he’s not used to seeing that.

Will figures that it’s more because it’s _Mike_, and he’s already dated El. And nobody really told Hopper what happened there once they called it quits, and so he was left to fill in the blanks. He wasn’t that fond of Mike to begin with, but that must’ve deepened. Will figures he thinks Mike hurt El. Will assumes Hopper thinks that _he’s_ going to get hurt, too.

When actually, hurt is the farthest thing Will feels when he’s with Mike.

“I know you don’t think very much of me, and I think you’re an ass sometimes,” Mike cuts in, ignoring the swift pinch Will gives his thigh. “But I – I’m not messing around. I know what it looks like, but it’s not like that. I spent a while being lost and scared and so it took me a while to catch up. But I’m alright now. I really am.”

Hopper scrubs a hand down his face. “Kid, listen-”

“I would never hurt him.”

“Wheeler-”

“I don’t care if you don’t like me,” Mike interrupts. “Just don’t – don’t give Will a hard time over this, alright?”

“I don’t _care_ what teenage drama you all got caught up in,” Hopper snaps. He looks uneasy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just care about my kids, alright? And one of them you hurt already.”

So Will was right. Hopper’s convinced Mike is nothing but bad news, at least when it comes to relationships.

Something twists low in his gut, something ugly, ready to lash out in Mike’s defence. The sight of guilt flashing in Mike’s eyes, at his gaze falling to his lap, has Will reaching out and holding his hand tight. He squeezes, before he lifts his chin at Hopper.

“He and El – they’re fine. They talked it all out, and El’s happy. She’s happier than she’s been in a long time, and – and I’m happy, too, okay?”

“Kid,” Hopper tries again, visibly conflicted.

“I’m _really_ happy, and I want it to stay that way.” Will’s eyes begin to burn, but he clenches his jaw and soldiers on. “You don’t have to like him, but just – just like that he’s the _reason_ I’m happy.”

A tense silence falls over them, _The Cars_ still wailing in the background as the three come to a halt.

Will’s heart is threatening to burst from his chest, and Mike is clenching his hand gratefully, and Hopper still hasn’t said anything, looking just as frustrated as usual but with something else there. Understanding, maybe. Acceptance.

“Okay, kid,” Hopper says finally, putting an end to the quiet. “You know what you’re doing. Just…” he sighs heavily, pointing a finger at them both. “This door? _Three. Inches_. Am I clear?”

“Yes sir,” Mike retorts, even going as far as to mock salute him, and Will has to bite his tongue to stop a laugh from bursting through the tension

Hopper eyes him wearily, and then they harden like steel. “And if I ever catch you doing – _that_ – to him again, I’ll throw you in a ditch.”

“Noted.”

He nods, satisfied. His eyes trail off to the side, and Will meets his gaze, grateful and relieved written all over his face. Hopper’s sharp edges seem to soften, and Will receives an uncharacteristically gentle look for a few moments before it vanishes, as quick as it came. His mouth thins, and he gives the boys one last warning glance before leaving, giving a purposeful look to the door that he keeps propped open at three inches.

“Well…” Will trails off. “That went better than I thought it would.”

When he’s met with silence, he turns to the right, finding Mike already staring at him.

His eyes are slightly widened, as if in disbelief, and they’re glazed over. His mouth is parted, words waiting to spill from his mouth, but he doesn’t say a word.

“What?”

Mike swallows, gaze falling to Will’s mouth. “You,” he says simply, almost in awe.

Will can’t help but let out a slight laugh. “What about me?”

Mike says nothing, leaning forward whilst tugging Will into a kiss, and it’s enough. It seems to convey everything Mike can’t put into words. The tension and the fear and the hurt burn away with every gentle stroke of their mouths, and Will reciprocates with everything he has to offer.

And it doesn’t seem like much, and sometimes it’s even less on bad days, but it’s his.

He knows Mike wouldn’t have it any other way. He knows, because he wouldn’t want anything but Mike, no matter how many scars he has, or how many new ones he’ll gain.

They pull away with a soft sound, and Mike shifts, bumping their noses together gently. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before exhaling his next words.

“I love you.”

Adoration warms Will right down to his toes, just like always.

“I love you, too.”

Mike’s shy grin bleeds into a beaming smile, and in the next instant, they’re falling into one another for the dozenth time that afternoon. They’re a mess of limbs and there’s laughter getting caught between their mouths like a secret, theirs to keep.

He guides Will back against the mattress, tangled legs and locked hands. Mike dips his tongue into Will’s mouth, and Will tastes pure happiness.

There’s a roar from down the hallway.

“_Wheeler!_”

Will swallows Mike’s groan, and they’re grinning so hard that their teeth keep clashing. Will knows that Hopper might disapprove, that he might not be willing to cave so easily. That he’s going to give Will the same grief he gave El over boys.

Will knows that Hopper might not understand why he chose Mike.

But that’s the thing. In the end, it was never a choice. But if he had to choose, it would always be _this_.

It would always be Mike.


End file.
